The Couch-Dog Returns

I awoke this morning to find Echo sleeping on the sofa instead of the floor where she's been hanging out for the past 3 days. I know most people wouldn't be pleased to find their animal sacked out on the furniture (with her head on a pillow, no less), but I am thrilled. This is progress!

I don't see much improvement in the swelling of her leg yet, but the vet assures me that continuing the mega-antibiotics and some exercise will cure that eventually. It's such a relief to have my girl coming back to her normal behaviors. She even came up the stairs to the loft this morning, to be with me while I tap away on the computer.

She and I will climb the mountain out back today, for some much-needed physical activity for both of us. I haven't exercised since I got sick last week, and though I can't say that I miss it, I feel the lack of it in my range of motion. Doing some huff-and-puff up the hill is a necessary evil.

I actually know people who love to exercise. I'm not one of them. I hate being hot and sweaty, I hate breathing hard, and ritualized physical exertion bores me to the max. But I love those post-exercise endorphins. It's like the old joke about the guy hitting himself in the head with a hammer--why does he do it? Because it feels so good when he stops. That's me and exercise. It feels good when it's finally over. Getting myself to the starting line is the tricky part. As long as I make it a disciplined part of each day (like brushing my teeth), I can psyche myself into it. But miss a day, and I go completely torpid again.

Now that I have my dog back, I have an excuse to motivate myself again. I'm doing it for her, I can tell my rebellious self.